


Amortentia

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dark Castle, F/M, Right?, Smut, and Rumbelle being Rumbelle, and fluff, for a change, rcij, these two adorable dorks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:30:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7790296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RCIJ pinch hit for emospritelet, her prompts were hide and seek (and smut).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amortentia

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as something completely different and the hide and seek turned into something a bit… sugary instead of the teasing game I’d started with. Apologies to J.K. Rowling for blatantly stealing something from Harry Potter. And then I messed with that, too.

Surprise! ‘tis I, your Santa 2.0 (okay just pretend to be shocked). 

An RCIJ pinch hit for the amazing @emospritelet who deserved like ten fics instead of this thing she wound up with. It was my absolute pleasure to write this for you even though I was sorry your original author flaked out. 

Prompt: hide and seek (and smut)

Rated E (for @emospritelet)

Word count: 5200ish

This started out as something completely different and the hide and seek turned into something a bit… sugary instead of the teasing game I’d started with. Apologies to J.K. Rowling for blatantly stealing something from Harry Potter. And then I messed with that, too. 

* * *

 

Belle breezed up the spiral staircase leading up to the tallest tower in the farthest wing of the Dark Castle, a warm ball of anticipation bubbling away in her chest. She took her time, not even out of breath from the effort now that she’d been in residence for almost an entire year. When she first arrived and was tasked to bring Rumplestiltskin his tea, the staircases had intimidated her and many times she had found herself stopping to rest halfway between the top and the bottom, cursing her delicate upbringing. She hadn’t expected to be a maid for the Dark One and there was no amount of training that could have prepared her for it. Anything more strenuous than embroidery or playing a harp was strictly frowned upon by her hatchet-faced governesses and she fiercely resented them during her first several weeks of her employment when her legs felt like lead at the end of the day and she wished her arms would just drop off.

Now, barely eleven months into this strange and wonderful deal she’d negotiated with the Dark One, Belle had strengthened her muscles and her resolve, learning how to navigate the ever-changing castle and its equally tempestuous owner. She carried with her a tray set with a porcelain tea service for two just in case Rumplestiltskin desired company that afternoon, something he’d often wanted, but rarely asked of her. If he was in a mood, she would stay and joke him out of it. If he was feeling playful… well, then she would joke him out of that, too.

It was difficult at first. All encompassing homesickness had consumed her first days and Rumple had plagued her incessantly, trying to provoke her into breaking her deal. Belle didn’t understand why he even bothered to try, she had been determined to see her end of the deal through: her servitude for her village’s safety. It wasn’t what she wanted in life, but it was what she chose, in the end.

Once the first couple weeks had passed and their awkwardness around each other eased somewhat, she began to explore her new home and puzzle out her master, such as he was. Her tasks were simple, really. Fetch straw, serve tea, run errands if he should ever think of them, which he never did for he could summon anything he desired with the twitch of a finger. Belle didn’t understand why she was there. Why would an all powerful sorcerer wish to have a lady serve him when he had magic at his bidding? The novelty of it? Bragging rights? Neither of those felt right to her, once she came to know the man behind the scaly mask.

Belle felt Rumplestiltskin was lonelier than he let on. Lonely and sad and fighting something within himself, something so terrible that she could only guess at it, but which made her heart ache as she watched him shoulder a burden he refused to share. He claimed that he was a monster. He claimed, to her eternal amusement whenever she thought of it, to be the father of nightmares. Yes, he was the Dark One. No doubt he had done terrible things, but he also saved her village from the ogres, a feat that no one else could have accomplished let alone for such a small price as asking her to be a maid.

It was her choice to make and she made it gladly.

She thought his act was a load of poppycock. She knew that his heart was that of a kind and generous man. She could see it clear as day in all his actions. She’d done some reading in her off hours (in her working hours, too, if she was being honest) and she’d learned that it wasn’t the first time he’d driven back the ogres. He’d once ended a mighty war that devastated the Enchanted Forest for years, bringing back the children that had been conscripted to fight the terrible creatures. Saving children was not the actions of a monster no matter how often he insisted upon it.

Rumple isolated himself. Hid away from the world and fought against his nature — that of a good man who had made too many mistakes to count, and who was trying to redeem himself every day. To what end, she didn’t know, but she hoped to be there when it happened.

At least, that’s what Belle thought of it all. It wasn’t as if he said much about… anything personal, but Belle was smart and able to read between the lines and piece things together until the picture came into focus. She liked to see his surprised, pleased smile on his face more often. Hear the soft way he laughed whenever she joked with him and the care he took whenever she was near him. He made her breathless in the way he looked at her sometimes or just with the almost sensuous way he spoke at night when there were no callers to see and no pretense to be had.

Rumplestiltskin needed love in his life, but he was too scared to let it in.

The last twist of the staircase and the great wooden door was finally in sight. She nudged the door open with her foot and slid into the room, greeting him cheerfully before she was hit by a warmth that nearly made her stagger with its force. Leather. Leather and the damp smell of the woods at midnight and the sizzling aroma of magic just performed assaulted her nostrils were prevalent though there were other, softer scents that tried to take shape. She had to shake her head to clear it before she was able to walk one step into the room. She steadied herself, feeling foolish and strode into the room, ignoring the pull that wanted her to veer towards her master instead of the tea table.

Rumplestiltskin stood at his work table, a small candelabra before him with its tapers lit and several, small copper bowls set out on the table filled with spices Belle couldn’t identify and a large mortar and pestle at his side. Rumplestiltskin often returned from one of his deals with bags of foreign goods for his personal use, but she didn’t know what the aromatic spices could be used for up here in his tower. He was just shaking out the match when she entered, his shoulders tensing as he merely grunted in reply.

Oh. It was going to be one of those days. She rolled her eyes behind his back, setting the tray on the small table he allowed for its use and began the task of preparing the tea, taking her time in order to think of a way to snap him out of his morose mood.

All of her attempts at conversation were met with monosyllabic grunts and she was just beginning to give up when she saw his shoulders shudder out of the corner of her eye.

“Rumple,” she asked, sliding a hand on his arm. The muscles underneath were tense as she smoothed the blue silk shirt underneath her fingertips (the man was silly about his clothes).

He barely looked at her, his eyes drawn to her hand on his arm. “Hmm?”

Undaunted she tried again. “Are you okay?” she asked.

He blew out a puff of air, his lips pursing in irritation looking for all his scaly skin like a debutante without a dance partner for her first ball.

“Why do you ask?” he said, testily. “Trying to find the monster’s weaknesses?”

She rolled her eyes. He was impossible to tease into a happier mood when he was like this. Sometimes she wanted to give the man a good spanking and send him to his room until he got over himself. She moved her head until she knew he could see her face and gave him a look that brooked no opposition, taking his hand in hers to lead him towards the tea table. He followed her silently, his eyes never leaving the place where she touched him, a confused, wistful sort of look on his face.

“You’re not a monster,” she told him firmly. “And I thought you don't have weaknesses. You’ve told me often enough,” she said with a smirk as her hand slid from his. She rounded the table, putting a tiny amount of  space between them, her heart beating wildly from their slight contact.

If she was being quite truthful, she might admit that she needed a little love in her life, too. And, if the way her heart sped up whenever their fingers accidentally grazed each other, or from the way he looked at her a little too long sometimes, his eyelids heavy over those strange and beautiful eyes, and how she often felt a pull of something delicious and aching between her legs when he opened himself up and allowed her to care for him, Belle knew that she was already falling deep into a trap of her own making. Touching him, petting him like the way she had been doing, was a dangerous line to tread when she was already halfway to love already.

She fumbled for the teapot, unable to look away from his face, flustered now at the rush of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. It was still hot, the magic of the castle making her job very easy.

He stared at her for a moment, his unusual eyes darting down to her mouth and back up. “I have a few weaknesses,” he said, quietly.

She stared back, her mouth open a bit as her heart flipped in her chest until the tea overflowed the cup and spilled over the edge, flooding the saucer to dribble onto the table.

She slammed the teapot down with a clatter, jumping back to keep the tea from running into her shoes. “Oh! Oh no,” she said in dismay, patting at the small puddle with edge of her apron, more distraught than she should have been.

“Not important,” he said. He waved a hand absently and the mess was cleared up instantly.

Belle nodded her head, silently. Of course. It was just tea, not the end of the world, but she felt so out of sorts in her skin that any tiny mishap was beginning to irritate her nerves. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, remembering that he was still morose and that she was going to try to get him to open up.

“You seem a bit…” She bit her lip as she thought of the right word. “Downtrodden today, Rumple. Care to talk?”

He looked up at her, startled at the direction the conversation had turned. “Talk? What about?”

“About what has you so blue.”

He held up an arm. “I'm green,” he reminded her with a bitter twist to his mouth.

Throwing caution to the wind, she took his hand again and held it up to the light. “A bit. And a bit gray and a bit gold, too. Your skin is really pretty in the light actually,” she said as she looked at it, stroking the flesh between his thumb and forefinger softly.

He snatched his hand back, his thumb rubbing at his fingers compulsively. “Did you run out of books to read?” he snapped, the green-gold of his cheeks darkening.

She bravely met his eyes, daring him to look away. Her chest felt tight, as if she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. Still his question demanded an answer. “No, there are thousands.”

“Feverish then? Faint?”

“No, none of these things. Rumple what is it? Let me share your burden. You never know I might be able to help,” she said, sliding his teacup over to him.

“Can you cast a curse?” he asked, suddenly.

She blinked. “A curse? No. I can _spell_ curse,” she added trying to make him smile.

“Then you're no help,” he said, dismissively, taking a sip of his tea. “Where’s the sugar?” he said, his face screwed up in disgust.

Startled, she looked at the bowl in front of her mounded with sugar cubes and realized that she had been too busy thinking about the feel of his skin that she forgot to put any in his tea. He usually took two. “Oh! I'm so sorry, Rumple I forgot,” she said, plucking a couple from the top.

He held the teacup out expectantly, waiting for her to drop the cubes in, but she pulled her hand back at the last second.

“What are you doing?” he asked, affronted.

Belle, her heart flip-flopping in her chest, pocketed the cubes. “Talk to me and you can have your sugar,” she said, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin at him.

He looked at her as if she has sprouted a second nose. “What?”

“I mean it,” she said. “I'll give you the sugar cubes if you talk to me.”

“I can just do it myself,” he reminded her, reaching for the bowl.

Lightning fast, Belle grabbed the bowl and, without thinking, dumped the entire contents down her chemise. They rattled as they fell, the sharp corners poking at her skin and she could feel them start to grate against each other as she fidgeted, sending granules of sugar down into her dress where they started to irritate her. She should have just tossed them out the window.

Oh. Oh, well, that did it, she thought as she watched Rumple tilt his head, his eyes wide with shock as he looked at her chest.

“Have you gone _mad_?” he croaked out, awed and a bit frightened.

“No, of course not” she insisted.

He stood there, staring at her as if she was a puzzle to figure out and Belle had the sudden feeling that that was how she often looked to him and felt sorry for it. But it was done, this idiotic stunt and she had to see it through to the bitter(sweet) end.

“What are you going to do with all that?” he murmured thoughtfully.

She fished one of the cubes out of her pocket and, not knowing what else to do, popped it in her mouth. She held his eyes as she crunched it, chewing slowly, letting the sugar dissolve on her tongue where it cloyed. She swallowed heavily then grabbed her teacup, gulping it down to rinse out her mouth.

“If you want the sugar, Rumple, you need to start being more forthcoming.”

“Not sure I want it now,” he muttered, but his eyes didn't quite reach her face. He was staring at her chest until she could feel her nipples harden into tight little peaks under his gaze.

She plucked out a cube from her décolletage and ate it. Deliberately crunching as loud as she could.

“I can just snap my fingers and have a fresh bowl you know. This display is quite unnecessary.”

“Do that and I'll dump it down my knickers,” she told him brazenly, her tongue wanting to cleave to the roof of her mouth from the syrupy sugar.

His eyes widened. “Tempting,” he said, licking at his lips with a quick swipe of his tongue before he raised his eyes to hers. They were blown nearly black, the buttery copper color having all but disappeared and Belle felt an answering pull deep between her legs.

“Rumple,” she said in a husky voice that she barely recognized, her fingers tracing the top of her bodice. “Do you want some sugar?”

He opened his mouth to speak but only a squeak came out. He was breathing heavily, his eyes darting from her chest to her face to her hand that was playing with the laces of her dress.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice gone hoarse.

She was breathing heavily, her knees weak now that she'd come this far, but the pull of him, his scent, the way his hair curled over his face, the way his skin glinted in the sunlight streaming in through the window… She wanted to taste him, to feel what that skin felt like against her. She wanted this. Wanted him and, like that, she knew what she had been searching for all these months.

Rumplestiltskin.

“I was making an amortentia potion,” he intoned, mesmerized by her fingers as the truth slipped out.

She dipped her finger in and pulled out the tiny bow holding her top together. She gave it a tug, slipping the bow from the knot and let the strings dangle.

“Amor— You’re making a love potion?” she asked, sharply.

His eyes snapped to hers, now in focus and fully aware. “Not quite. It’s a powder that allows the person breathing it to smell the scents that remind them of their true love. Either they are still searching for love or they want to be reminded of it for some reason. You’d be surprised at how many people want a packet of the stuff,” he added with a quip.

A finger hooked into the top ladder of her laces and pulled, the soft sound of the leather rasping against the eyelets sounded like thunder to her ears. “What do you smell?”

He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath. “I smell… moonbeams on a warm summer night and… roses. Red roses that are just opening and dotted with the morning dew.” His eyes opened and pierced her with their intense gaze. “I smell the age of dusty books and brittle parchment. When you walked in it felt like a sledgehammer to my chest.”

Her mouth parted as she began to understand why she had been so bothered when she walked in. It was as if everything that made Rumplestiltskin Rumplestiltskin had been amplified and concentrated and aimed straight for her heart.

She yanked at her laces and pulled the bodice apart, shrugging out of it. The sugar cubes, no longer confined by the stiff fabric, fell down to her belly where they were stopped by her waistband. Her skin itched now, but whether it was from the sugar irritating her skin or the way Rumplestiltskin’s gaze followed them. She felt hot and tight and ready to explode unless something happened to relive the urgent throbbing between her legs.

“Did you smell anything?” he asked, glancing up at her face quickly before his eyes dropped back down to her nipples, ducky peaks almost visible underneath the thin fabric of her chemise.

“I did. The moment I opened the door. It was leather and the forest and magic and… wool and something I’m not sure I can identify. It was musky and damp and I’ve never smelled anything like it before.”

His eyebrows raised thoughtfully. “Intriguing,” he said, hoarsely. “Anyone I know?”

She laughed. A short, burst or air that burned her throat. “I imagine you’ve met before,” she said as she took his hand in hers again, relishing the dry warmth and texture and rightness of it. His fingers were long and articulate and expressive and she’d been fascinated with them for a long time, watching him spin or stir his tea or simply wave them in the air when he was feeling dramatic. She closed her eyes as she brought it up to her lips and kissed his palm, nuzzling it with her cheek before opening her eyes again to watch his face.

The table between them disappeared and Belle didn’t ask where it had flown off to. The middle of the pond probably, floating away with the tea things on top, an offering to the naiads that lived there perhaps.

“Belle,” he rasped. “Could you ever—” He cut himself off, swallowing thickly. “I feel such things for you that I have no right to feel.”

If felt like she was floating on a gentle breeze. She didn’t even know she was walking until she was pressed against him, the sugar cubes poking into her skin uncomfortably. “Why would you even say that,” she asked, looking up into his face earnestly. “You have every right to feel anything you want.”

“Monsters don’t deserve…” His gaze roamed over her face, her neck and shoulders. “Beautiful… young maidens who ignite fires that have been damped for decades. You don’t deserve it.”

Decades? It was on the tip of her tongue to ask who last ignited his fire, but, at last, common sense prevailed and she tossed that tidbit of information out the window along with the tea table. She would ask some other time when his lips weren’t quite as close and his eyes weren’t burning with promises of things her governesses would have tried to beat out of her.

He stroked her hair away from her face, loosening the twist in the back, taking a sharp breath as her locks fell about her shoulders, his lips pressed together tightly as if he was going to burst.

She held his eyes “I decide what I deserve, Rumple. No one else,” she told him, firmly.

He chuckled, remembering her little speech when he’d first come for her at her family’s stronghold. “No one decides my fate but me,” she’d declared and she meant it then as she did now. Only she had the choice and she chose Rumplestiltskin.

She stood up on her toes and pressed her lips to his, swallowing his startled gasp as she wrapped her arms around him. He was skinnier than she expected. He always seemed so much larger than life that his slight frame confused her at first. She could feel the tight sinews of his muscles as they tensed underneath her questing fingers, the way they bunched up then loosened as if her very touch soothed him.

He moaned against her mouth as she took small, sipping kisses from him, then he shuddered, holding her close to him as she opened her mouth to allow him inside.

He tasted like the amortentia: forest and magic and leather and musk. His tongue caressed hers until she wanted to crawl on top of him — it was impossible for her to get close enough, she needed more. More taste, more touch, more Rumplestiltskin.

More air.

She broke away, gasping, looking up at her lover. He was wrecked, his eyes hooded and pupils blown wide, his mouth parted as he, too, panted for air. His mouth though, lips swollen and wet from her kisses, drew her in again heedless of where they were going.

They fumbled backwards until they slammed into the work table, scattering the powders and sending them into billowing clouds where they mixed together to form a concentrated dose that burned in her lungs.

It was all Rumplestiltskin then. In the air, between her finger and winnowing into her very pores. She breathed reply, needing more of that heady aroma.

He must have been just as affected because every self-conscious doubt had melted away. He tugged at her skirt, delving into the waistband to find the drawstring that held it up and yanked, ripping the fabric in his haste to undress her.

“Belle,” he groaned into her mouth. “Oh, Belle. Belle. Belle…”

She stepped away briefly, never letting his lips leave hers for a moment, to let the skirt fall to the floor in a puddle of fabric. As soon as it was off, she slammed right back against him, wrapping a leg around his thigh to keep him close, close to where she was aching with need.

“Yes,” she whispered as his head dipped to her shoulders, his sharp claws scraping against her heated flesh as he drew her chemise aside.

He ran his tongue against her,  licking at the tiny grains of sugar that were left and lapping at her skin with a greedy moan that sent shivers through her body.

She threaded her fingers through his hair and held on, throwing her head back as he scooped out a breast, the roughness of his hands grazing against her tender flesh in the most delicious way. He rolled her nipple between two fingers, gently pulling at it, tweaking it until it was pebble hard and aching. Just as she was about to scream in frustration, he sucked it into his mouth, grazing it with his bottom teeth and her scream turned into a long moan that felt like it would never end. She ground herself against him, the leather of his trousers sending darts of pleasure through her feverish body and the amortentia hit her nostrils in full force and she dimly realized what that musky scent was now.  

Sex. Sex and Rumplestiltskin and her and the way they joined together.

She couldn't stop herself if she tried. Not when he let her nipple slip from his lips to switch to her other breast, not when she shrugged out of her chemise and yanked her drawers down, the forgotten sugar cubes falling to the floor where they scattered. Not when she tore at his shirt, sending the buttons flying and leaving it hanging on his wrists while she attacked the belt of his trousers. She wanted. She needed. She had to have him.

Naked and shaking, they fell to the floor amongst their discarded clothes with Rumplestiltskin giving over her, his hands to either side of his head and her legs wrapped around his waist. She pulled at his shoulders, wanting to kiss him some more, but he smirked at her wickedly before telling her,” You promised me some sugar.”

“What?”

She frowned in confusion until he crawled down her body, dislodging her legs until they fell away as he gave a long swipe of his tongue against her breastbone.

He followed the trail to her belly button where some granules had collected during their heated frenzy and dipped his tongue into it, swirling it around until he was satisfied he’d gotten everything he could then moved lower, pulling her knees over his shoulders.

She was sticky and wet and aching and there was more that she needed. Something to end this wicked suffering he was putting her through, but she didn't know what it was she needed until he murmured something against the mound of hair between her legs then licked against her swollen hot flesh and she shrieked, bucking up into his mouth that was now clamped against the softest part of her, licking and sucking and scraping his teeth against the tiny nub at the apex of her legs until she grew hoarse from her screams and the muscles in her thighs trembled uncontrollably.

She tried to lift her head up so she could watch as he worked her over, but she was boneless and limp with her release. She felt like she’d died and had come back to life and the amortentia was thick in her nostrils now, slowly bringing her back from her languid stupor until she remembered Rumplestiltskin and the dull throbbing between her legs that was dimmed, but not yet sated.

He was resting his head against her thigh, looking up at her with a lazy smile as he lightly stroked her secret place with his fingers, dipping one in every so often to scoop out a bit of moisture that he would use to rub circles next to her engorged nub, her legs shivering with each pass of his finger.

Belle had no idea her body could feel such things, nor did she realize that it could do so again so soon, but as intriguing as the idea of his fingers on her skin was, she needed more than that.

She pulled at him, tugging until he gave in and crawled back up to where she could kiss his sticky mouth.

Leather and forest and magic and wool and musk and it was all there as she lapped at him, barely surprised at her reaction now that she got a taste of it on her tongue.

He was shaking against her, his large, hard cock pressed against her thigh and his shoulders bunched up under her hands. Belle knew how things worked, her governesses weren't quite as adept at shielding her from basic copulating as they had hoped, but she didn't know that a person could feel so much wanting. So much needing and loving and greed for another person before.

She spread her legs wide, rubbing herself against him shamelessly, delighting in the way he hissed at her brazen actions.

It was easy for him to slip in. Just the tip, that wide fleshy bit of him that stretched her in a way that she hadn't thought of before and, as he slid in further, she cried out from the absolute pleasure of the way he felt inside her, hard and hot and twitching. He stopped when he could go no further and she wrapped her legs around him once more, clawing at his back with her nails to get closer. He had to move. She needed it. Need more. Needed him.

Finally, he pushed himself up into his arms and stared down at her, his face slack with desire and wonder as he pulled out, then slowly thrust back in.

Belle was lost in her own gratification. She tried to tell him how good he felt, but none of the words she said were recognizable to her ears. Jumbled and half-broken, they faded away into moans as he pumped himself against her. Her eyes glazed over until all she saw was Rumplestiltskin a over her, grunting with each hard thrust, the sugar and their sweat mixing with until their skin clung to each other

He was shaking, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he came closer to his own completion, but he stilled himself before he found it, reaching down with one hand to find that greedy nub again with a rough finger pad and _pressed_.

She screamed as her orgasm washed over her, her inner muscles clenching against him, concealing around his cock until he was spilling his seed inside her, her name a hoarse cry on his lips.

“I love you,” she whispered as he collapsed on top of her and after she’d regained her breath. “The amortentia I smelled was us all along. I think I knew it beforehand, but I didn't understand until now.”

He breathed into her neck what sounded like a sob, but when he slid his weight off of her, his eyes were clear. “You are an unusual woman, Belle. But I think that's the only kind of woman that could ever love someone like me. Unusual and strange and wonderful and a tiny bit frightening and I can't imagine my life with you now. I love you too much to let you go. Not until you wish it.”

She fiddled with a strand of his hair. “I don't wish it. I promised forever and I meant it. Forever.”

He smiled then, a genuine smile that would have scared away anyone else but Belle with his ruined teeth and scaly skin, but she loved all of him and would continue to do so until the world stopped spinning.

He stretched out next to her then started suddenly.

Wincing painfully, he reached over and dug a hand under his back, bringing out a half crushed sugar cube.

“And, I did promise you some sugar,” she teased him.

“Indeed you did,” he said with a waggle of his eyebrows before he popped it into his mouth and crunched down on it.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note: in fanfic, infections and diseases don't exist. Do not try the sugar thing at home, kids. Trust me on this, you would not be happy.


End file.
